Harry & the Pirate III: Norrington's Choice
Epilogue: Nap Time
Jack Sparrow called a greeting to Rachel, trotted lightheartedly up the stairs and strode down the hall toward his bedroom, entering without ceremony. Harry, reclining on the chaise longue by the window, looked up and smiled a greeting, then resumed communing with their nine-month-old son, who was very much absorbed in enjoying his lunch.
"At it again, is he?" Jack observed, gracefully disposing himself on the bed to enjoy the view. The baby had been busily nursing when he'd surprised Harry just after dawn that morning, returning from a month at sea. "No wonder he's plump as a partridge! Of course, that's certainly one of my favorite ways of passin' the time!"
Harry glanced up, her eyes twinkling, and said, primly, "Eating?"
"That, too," he replied, with a wicked smile.
Harry chuckled in delight.
The baby, momentarily distracted, turned dark, heavily lashed eyes up, saw his mother smiling and favored her with a gummy grin of his own. Milk dripped unheeded from his open mouth and down the front of her dress.
"Oh, you naughty boy!" Harry laughed, and as her son settled in again, patting the object of his affection with a fat little hand, she said to Jack, "At least he is a very good natured baby."
"Of course he is," Jack chuckled. "He's my son, ain't 'e?" He shook his head sadly. "Another dress ruined, belike. Amelie is going to be a trifle upset, as are the laundry maids. Ye don't think you should have done with this and get a wet nurse?" This last was said in a somewhat hopeful manner, for Jack was of the opinion that Harry should not be at anyone's beck and call but his own while he was home. His little son differed with him on this subject and had no hesitation in expressing his sentiments most vociferously.
"But I would miss this so much, in spite of the stained dresses," Harry smiled. "And it is only for a few more months. Rachel says that he can learn to drink from a cup when he is a year old!"
"That right? Well, I doubt he'll think a cup compares favorably with what he's got 'is hands on at present."
"No, I don't suppose he will," agreed Harry. "That's why they call it weaning!"
"Ah!" Jack nodded, sagely. "Thank God it's him an' not me! Poor laddie."
Harry suppressed her mirth this time, and said "Stop making me laugh! He'll do it again!"
"I like makin' you laugh. And other things. Is it time for his nap yet?"
"I thought you were offloading all of those building supplies." Harry and Jack had decided that a Sailor's Home was needed on the island, for crewmembers who wished (or needed) to stay on St. Claire for a time. To this end, Jack had purchased a holdful of good lumber, nails, and related items, using profits made from the selling of some exceptionally fine swag gleaned from the last ship the Pearl had encountered. For the next month, while the Black Pearl was being careened at a suitable bay they'd discovered on the north side of St. Claire, Jack would also be supervising the building of said Home. And enjoying the society of his baby son and his wife. Particularly his wife.
"Gibbs is finishing up, an' we'll lay up in Pearl's Rest 'til tomorrow. I'm free for the afternoon." He batted his eyelashes at her, giving her a coy look.
"I should think you'd need a nap, too, after being up half the night bringing the ship in, and doing all that work this morning!"
"Oh, I'm plannin' on a nap," he assured her. "Afterwards."
She smiled, both with affection and with most pleasurable anticipation. "Shall we see about making a girl, then?" she said softly.
Jack's own expression became somewhat more serious at these words, the voicing of his wife's heart's desire. And his own, he supposed. A little girl. Wrapping him around her tiny finger, just as his son was wont to do.
"It's only been nine months, love," he reminded her. "That harpy back in Barbados said it'd be best to wait a year."
"Madame Joujou!" Harry said, with a grin. "And she is not a harpy! She is a most knowledgeable and capable midwife."
"She bloody threw me out!"
Harry shook her head. "You would have wished to be elsewhere, anyway. I know I did!"
"And yet you're willin' to do it all again?" Jack's smile faded as he remembered that night in Barbados, and the hours leading up to it.
"Some things are worth great risk, as you know," she said simply, looking down at their son.
Finished with his repast, the baby struggled to sit up. Harry helped him, patting the strong little back until he gave a sated burp, then placing him on the floor. He turned onto all fours, rocked back and forth a few times, then seeing his father's face peering at him over the edge of the bed, he crawled quickly toward him, making delighted babbling sounds.
"Hallo, young Tom!" Jack grinned. Thomas Jackson Sparrow, Emperor of St. Claire. In spite of the long weeks Jack spent at sea, the baby had grown very much attached to his father. As for Jack, it was true love, pure and simple. They'd named him Tom for both Harry's father and for Jack's own much-mourned maternal grandfather, a wonderfully grizzled old sailor with gentle ways and endless stories of the sea for a lonely little boy. But the baby's middle name was more reflective of his place in the world. Jack's son, indeed. Yes, some things were worth great risk.
Tom, reaching the mountainous bed, began the ascent, grabbing onto the bedclothes and pulling himself up onto sturdy legs.
Jack laughed in delight. Reaching down and catching the baby under his arms, the proud father picked him up. "He'll be walkin' before we know it at this rate!" Jack turned onto his back, letting the baby straddle his chest. Tom immediately began investigating the interesting trinkets his father kept in his hair specifically to amuse his son. Or so his son thought.
Harry watched the two of them play, quite sure she was the most fortunate woman in the world. She came over and bent and kissed Jack, first on the forehead, and then, rather more lingeringly, on the lips.
"Mmmmm," said Jack.
Tom's comment was just as comprehensible. He gave a high-pitched squeal of pleasure and happily grabbed handfuls of his mother's hair.
Harry laughingly disengaged herself, turned and gave Tom a smacking kiss on the cheek, at which he gurgled with laughter, too.
"He'll never go down for his nap at this rate, " said Jack, catching the baby's hands before he could resume playing with Jack's own hair.
"Sara needed the day off to care for her mother, but there must be someone else who can watch him for a little. Why don't you take him downstairs and ask Rachel while I change my dress and wash up. I don't want to smell of stale milk tonight, and nor do you: the Lightfoots will be here for dinner and Giles would tease you unmercifully."
"He would, too, the old devil. Seems to get great pleasure out o' seein' me put in me place by this snip of a boy."
"He does indeed!" Harry laughed. "But you may console yourself with the reflection that every woman on the island thinks you an adorable father!"
Jack rolled his eyes and said to his son, "Ye hear that, Tom? The Terror o' the Spanish Main: adorable." He got up, then, tucking the baby under his arm, saying, "Come along, lad. We'll find someone to keep you busy while I show your mother just how adorable I can be when I've been away a month!" Brow lifted suggestively, he raked his eyes over her and was pleased to note that he could still make her blush like a maid.
As he walked across toward the door, there was a knock and it opened.
"Capitaine!" exclaimed Amelie, Harry's dresser, "I did not know you were with Madame! I shall leave at once."
"No!" said Jack. "Madame and I are greatly fatigued and wish to…take a nap! Can you watch this young varmint for a bit?"
Amelie chuckled. "A nap! I see!" And from the look she gave Jack, and then Harry, it was obvious she did see. Then Harry's dress caught her eye. "But Madame! Again! Oh the naughty little one!"
"Yes," said Harry. "If he was not such a charming baby I would have to be quite annoyed. Please help me take this dress off and get cleaned up."
"For your nap," Amelie said, eyes alight.
"For my nap," agreed Harry, with a grin. "Jack, there must be someone downstairs who can watch Tom."
"All right, I'm off then," said Jack, bowing to the exigencies of le toilette.
He made his way downstairs, the baby making contented coos and gurgles from under his arm. Rachel was gone from the foyer where he'd last seen her, and he suddenly remembered her saying something about supervising the making of candles today, utilizing the shipment of fine beeswax he'd brought her. He walked out and around the house to the sideyard off the kitchen, where such activities were usually conducted, and found her, sleeves rolled up, in the midst of it, together with several of the housemaids. She caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, however, and looked up, smiling.
"Now, that's a sight, girls! Two of the handsomest men in the world, payin' us a visit. And here we are, up to our ears in beeswax!"
Jack, suddenly the object of a great many lingering looks, and smiles that ranged from friendly to flirtatious, shifted the baby up, displaying his charms like a shield. Tom grinned and babbled happily at his familiar friends.
"One of you wouldn't like to watch the nipper for me?" Jack asked, giving an ingratiating smile of his own.
Rachel eyed the pirate with some amusement. "Lady Harry waitin' for you upstairs?"
A whole battery of Ah!'s and smirks were tossed at him, and to his consternation he could feel himself coloring. Thank God for his sun-bronzed complexion! He cleared his throat and said, a little defensively, "Aye, she is. We…uh…want to take a bit of a nap before dinner."
Rachel grinned. "A nap, eh?" She chuckled, and a ripple of giggling went through the ranks of her co-workers. Then, taking pity on Jack, she said, "Captain, we'd be glad to help but we've got another hour of work to do here, and this is no place for that lively little one. Why don't you see if Madame Louise will watch him 'til we're done-she's right smitten with that baby."
"All right. Thanks. I will," said Jack. He gave a nod to the company, and retreated with what dignity he could muster.
He entered the back door and made his way through a workroom and down a short hall into the kitchen, a roomy, well-equipped room with a large fireplace. This was the realm of Madame Louise, and her consort Anatole when he was home from the Black Pearl's voyages. All was orderly, and there was a pot of something simmering on the hearth with a scent that made Jack's mouth water.
Madame Louise was nowhere to be seen, however. Jack was just about to call out to her, thinking she might be nearby, when an odd thumping sound came to his ears. His brows twitched together, and he briefly looked at his son for enlightenment.
"Gah?" said Tom, reacting to his father's puzzled look.
"Indeed," said Jack.
The thumping hadn't ceased, so Jack followed the sound, stealthily. It seemed to be coming from behind the closed door of the pantry, but as he approached this storage area other sounds came to his ears. Madame Louise. And Anatole. The low voices were familiar, even without benefit of decipherable words. Realizing that Madame was in the midst of greeting her esteemed colleague, who had also been away for a month, Jack froze, then began to back away, just as stealthily as he'd approached, if not more so. It seemed that Madame would not be available to watch the baby either, just now.
Escaping the kitchen, thankfully undetected, Jack went back into the house to look for his last hope: his valet, Alphonse. Alphonse had said on several occasions that the care of young Thomas was more or less equivalent to the services that had been required of him by his former master, Beauvrais, and that he did not at all mind being asked to watch the baby on the rare occasion that no one else was available to fill this need. The rare occasion having presented itself, Jack began to search for him, finally running him to earth in the drawing room.
Alphonse was in the midst of polishing the enormous new epergne Jack had saved out for Harry from the Black Pearl's last haul, knowing she would be vastly amused at its elaborate vulgarity. The unveiling was to be held after dinner, and Jack couldn't wait to see her face when she took in the magnificence of gilded gods and goddesses, a variety of animals, and quantities of scrollwork, interspersed with candleholders and surmounted by a bowl, presumably for fruit. The valet looked up, however, as Jack entered with Tom, and smiled. "Capitaine! And the little one!"
"Aye," said Jack, "I see you're almost done with that thing. It'd be rather pretty if it wasn't in such poor taste, eh?"
"Oh, yes," agreed Alphonse. "It is an amazing piece."
"Amazing. That's the word. But I've a favor to ask ye: would you be able to watch me whelp for a bit? Until one o' the ladies is free. He's not in the mood for a nap, seemingly, though his mother and I are quite worn out." Jack produced a yawn, to illustrate this point.
Alphonse was not taken in, but he said most sympathetically, "Oh, Capitaine! Of course I will watch the little cabbage while you…ah…rest. If you will give me but five minutes more to complete my work here!"
"Oh, certainly! Amelie's helpin' Harry change out of her frock-spilt milk, again."
"Voyons! Madame's wardrobe diminishes by the day."
"So it does," agreed Jack. "P'raps we'll raid a ship that's carryin' some fashionable mademoiselles one day soon. Or at least some bolts of good quality cloth."
Alphonse agreed that this would be most desirable. Conversation then languished as Jack sat on the sofa and put his feet up. Alphonse resumed polishing the epergne, smiling at the sight of Mad Jack Sparrow playing contentedly with his infant son.
o-o-o
Harry, who had finally picked up a book of poetry to read while she waited for her husband's advent, heard a light rapping at her bedroom door and frowned. Wondering who it could be, she set the book down and slipped from her bed, going to the closet for a dressing gown to cover herself. She put it on as she padded to the door, the embroidered satin and lace feeling quite delicious against her bare skin. She tied the sash tight about her waist (again nearly as narrow as it had been two years before, thank Heaven!) and opened the door.
Alphonse, looking sheepish, said, "A thousand pardons, Madame Henrietta. You were waiting for the Capitaine, no?"
Harry stared, then spoke, blushing only very slightly. "Yes! How did you…have you seen the Captain?"
"But yes, madame. He and the little one are in the drawing room."
"The drawing room! But…"
"May I suggest you go to them, Madame. No, no!" Alphonse smiled reassuringly. "They are well. But it will be good to see for yourself, hein?"
Surprised, and still a little concerned in spite of the valet's words, Harry said, "Yes, all right," and slipped past him, treading barefoot down the hall to the stairs.
As the thin satin robe was all she wore, without even slippers to accompany it, she was thankful there was no one about. Oddly enough, since her marriage she had become somewhat more modest, outside the bedroom at least. Inside it was an entirely different matter, of course. Jack was possessed of long and varied experience in such activity; he was rarely crude, but he had, nevertheless, a lack of inhibition that gave her a great sense of freedom when they were alone together. And she trusted him, as she had never trusted anyone. She felt as though she'd been half alive before she'd met Jack, and merely a child before her son was born.
And dignified matrons did not wander about clad only in dressing gowns, however elegant.
The door to the drawing room was closed. She opened it, quietly, and went in, looking about as she closed it again. There did not seem to be anyone there…but what was that sound? Harry, suddenly recognizing it, stifled a laugh and tiptoed forward.
Her two men were laid down on the sofa, the baby's head rising and falling slightly against his father's chest as Jack gently snored. They were both sound asleep. Adorable, indeed. No wonder Alphonse had not wanted to wake them.
Henrietta Sparrow went to a comfortable nearby chair with a footrest and curled up in it, quite content. It was time for The Most Fortunate of Women to have a nap, too.
~.~
On to "Deleted Scene": Blancmange